True to his word, Mello came back two hours later. He looked awkward, holding a plastic bag in one hand and the key in the other. He deposited both things on the counter and ducked into the bedroom, only to be sure that Matt was still alive. Affirming this, he slunk into the kitchen to retrieve a chocolate bar. He cast a disdainful glance at the couching, banishing the thought of going to sleep. He wasn't tired anymore, but it was a fact that he would eventually go to sleep, probably when he least expected it, but not now. For some reason, he wanted to be awake when Matt woke up. The blonde could stick it out that long; he had done it before.
Matt didn't stir when Mello checked in on him—he was dead tired and consequently slept like a rock. Mello would be forced to stay up for another couple hours if he wanted to be awake when Matt came to, the other only doing so at some six in the morning when the sun was just starting to come up. It wasn't the faint light that woke him, though, but rather a renewed throbbing in his chest. Although the Tylenol promised to work for at least eight hours, the samples weren't much to combat a gunshot wound. Groaning, Matt sat up in bed, immediately regretting it both due to the dizziness that accompanied, and the pain.
"Fuck," he muttered, turning to set his feet on the ground, hesitate a second, and then stand, fighting to keep his balance and cursing all the while.
Mello was almost asleep by the time he heard the soft curse from the other room. He had been lounging against the dirty couch, having covered the bloodstains by turning the seat cushions and draping a blanket over them. A chocolate bar was dangling out of his mouth, half-eaten and almost abandon.
He stood drearily, blinking away the sleep that was now raging a battle with his eyelids.
"Ughh...Matt, I brought you some painkillers..."
The tired blonde marched over to the doorframe, there to help if the other needed. "I used my own money."
He didn't say that to make him guilty, just to assure him that he wasn't skiving off his money while he was incapacitated.
Matt looked over to see Mello standing in the doorway and looking quite tired himself. He actually looked like Matt had roused him from sleep, and the red-haired youth figured that he had. He gave Matt a somewhat apologetic smile, steady on his feet now, but in no mood to get going anywhere. He'd thought maybe he'd go out to see if Mello was around, but the blonde had already saved in the trouble—and he hadn't realized that his body was going to be so damn difficult.
"Oh, shucks..." Matt answered, now venturing a couple steps seeing as a few minutes had passed. At discovering his world did not lurch, he continued on. Where Mello was tired, Matt felt wide-awake. He never had been one for sleeping in, and even now, he didn't feel like going to sleep yet.
"Thanks, I'll get them…you look like shit, Mello," Matt informed with a small, wry grin.
"I'm worried about you, bastard," snapped the older male, retreating from the room once he had assured that the other had gotten up alright. He tossed himself on the couch again, letting out a prolonged sigh. The chocolate the was left untouched in his mouth was now getting its attention: Mello ran his tongue several times over the bitten edge of the candy, then began to wolf it down with a speed incapable by any ordinary human.
"I guess now that you're up, I can get some sleep, though."
Not that he planned to sleep for long. Just long enough to replenish his synapses and rest for a moment.
Hearing that Mello was worried about him only made Matt want to laugh for the absurdity of it, but he refrained. He didn't exactly want Mello to think that Matt was making fun of him or anything like that, and he highly doubted that Mello would continue to be kind if Matt started laughing at it.
"Sleep away, you need it," Matt told him, making his way out of the bedroom and finding the plastic bag that Mello had gotten from the store, keen to get his hands on the pain killers, whether or not they'd really help his predicament. If he was careful, the gunshot wound just throbbed and demanded his attention all the time, but it was bearable. If he wasn't, he would be forced to grit his teeth to keep from yelling something profane.
Mello, on the other hand, fell back on the couch, curling up with his chocolate to close his eyes. He licked his lips, clearing any candy remnants from them, and exhaled slowly before drifting off. He did need it after going to see Near and all the shit that had proceeded it. Especially the worry. He wouldn't confess exactly the extent of that worry, but he was sure it would cause a couple of grey hairs that would put even Roger to shame. Fuck. That was exactly what he needed...
The blonde rolled over on his back, clasping one hand over his stomach while the one gripping the chocolate slipped off the couch and onto the floor. Knowing him, though, he would still eat it, even after it had touched the filthy carpet.
Meanwhile, Matt was in the kitchen, taking a smidgen more than the recommended dosage of the pills—but he figured, what the hell. Over the counter painkillers were meant for things like headaches and toothaches, not gun-inflicted injuries. Besides, if the gun hadn't killed him, a couple of pills wouldn't do too much, he didn't think. It was really a wonder to Matt why the hell he wasn't dead.
He walked around to the area that was littered with blood and laptops, surveying the damage done for a moment before picking up his handheld video game system and sitting with a grunt. Hey, his electronics weren't bloody, so he wasn't complaining. That couch, though...well, at least Mello had make-shifted a solution. Matt couldn't help but to smile in amusement at watching Mello sleep—after the night's events, Mello looked strangely... vulnerable.
Well, Matt, being Matt, merely turned on his handheld.
...x…
Alright, so he had slept longer than he thought he would. He actually thought he would wake up after a couple of hours at a maximum, but he slept a good five hours before grumbling something in his sleep and rolling slightly on his side. This slight movement, however, tossed him completely off the couch.
"Shit," he pronounced cleanly, before supporting his light frame by one palm. He rubbed his forehead vigorously, cracking one eye at the technology that littered the side of the room he was facing. His head pounded with irritation and a little bit of pain, owed mostly to his fall off the loveseat.
"Shit," he repeated, scrambling to his feet. He sort of forgot that Matt was in the apartment.
Even if he remembered, it was doubtful that he would have remembered about the previous events as well. So, he leaned down to pick up his fallen chocolate, and strode languidly into the kitchen.
A short peal of laughter followed by a sharp inhale, a swear word, and more laughter indicated that Matt, indeed, was around. The gamer set aside his handheld, managing to have done more zombie-shooting than any work—but that was only to be expected. Matt gathered himself off the ground with some ridiculous amount of effort, leaning back against the wall with an amused smile on his lips.
"Sleep well?" he questioned Mello, having expected the blonde to wake after a couple of hours as well—but Mello had gotten a pretty decent rest after all.
"You sleep like a baby. I'm surprised that fall woke you up," Matt commented off-handedly. He might have followed, but for the time being, he decided against it. Mello would probably come back anyways.
"Shut the hell up, Matt."
Things were back to normal in Mello's world. Sleep cured most things, especially things in the way of mental unrest. He was completely fit now and ready to go out again. Well, maybe not now, but in a day or two he'd be out doing what he did best, and everything in between. Nothing deterred his mind for an unduly long time, not when he had so beautifully mastered the art of locking things away in his subconscious a he slept. That little trick prevented suicide.
He opened the refrigerator and rooted around for something. He huffed silently and slammed the door again, returning to the living room to sit heavily on the couch and nibble on his candy bar.
Matt took Mello's none-too-kind comments to mean that everything was right again—well, not that he had minded either way. A break from Mello's attitude had been nice, but as long as Mello didn't get too pissy, Matt didn't mind the regular snap that he was stuck with day in and day out.
The other's failed excursion through the fridge was a hint that Matt needed to go grocery shopping again, and add bandages to the list. He didn't really want to keep ruining his shirts—the one he was sporting now had caked blood running along it. At least it did the trick of binding his injury. He got off the wall and, with his foot as he wandered to the kitchen to see what he might luck upon, sort of rearranged his technology into order.
"What's your next move, Mello? If it banks on my being mobile, you're a little stuck." Matt was literally Captain Obvious. Really.
"I never expected your mobility," commented the blonde, massaging the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger irritably. "When do I ever make you go anywhere, anyway?"
It was sort of a good point, although Matt was the one who usually went shopping and all of that. There was no way Mello was going out to shop so flippantly. It would be like flaunting his identity to Kira, though he had a sneaking suspicion that it was already on its way to being discovered. He hadn't been quite so surreptitious, had he?
"You usually sit here and work on the computer."
"…I don't know. You might," Matt answered with a shrug—he did own a couple damn nice cars that could be put to use any time Mello wanted them to. Granted, he also had a couple of acquaintances who had damn nice cars if they wanted to be more discrete about it. Matt momentarily disregarded the truth in the elder's statement, finding himself a grape popsicle and heading back to the room to sit against the wall opposite of the couch. He bit off a chunk, letting it melt in his mouth and distract him from the pain in his chest. "You've got your picture...Did you get anything out of Near?"
"Not really," he said. "All I went there for was my picture..."
Now that he was calmed down, he could talk about his meeting with Near civilly. It was his cycle. Everything was tranquil again, and if there wasn't physical evidence that anything had taken place, you wouldn't have suspected it. At least, not in the hints that Mello gave off; his calm demeanor was almost...suspicious. However, there was no chance that he was going to pull the trigger in this apartment any time soon. In fact, he didn't even plan to take out his gun in here. It was too dangerous, especially with him being temperamental as he was.
"What did he say to you, then?"
Matt didn't exactly know why he wanted to know—maybe it was curiosity of the case speaking, maybe it was an idea that if he knew, he'd never mention it again. Of course, now he knew that he better not say another fucking word about L dying, Mello being stupid, or Mello being like L before he got himself shot again.
He eyed the other in his serenity, looking around at the general chaos around them. Mello's moods were so…fickle. Matt's mind was joking to him that living with Mello was dangerous, like rooming with Kira himself. He inwardly laughed it off, only taking a bite from his popsicle in lieu of showing any mirth.
Mello grumbled something unintelligible, then sighed and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. It probably wasn't too smart to keep talking about Near, in case it spurred another of the elder's break downs.
"Nothing."
Of course this wasn't the case, but 'nothing' was a standard reply that usually meant 'I don't want to talk about it'. Anything Matt needed to know, Mello would eventually tell him. Now, he didn't plan on divulging anything needless.
Matt shrugged, wincing subtly and taking another bite out of his popsicle, finished with nearly half of it now. He decided to let the subject be—Matt would respect Mello's touchy spots to keep him from getting too aggravated.
The redhead cast a wry glance down to the laptops spread in a slightly scattered semi-circle on the floor, debating attempting to work now, but deciding that he kind of wanted to sleep some more. This was unusual. He decided to finish off his popsicle, have a smoke, and see how he felt then. Either way, he had a job to do.
"Hmn...Mello…today, do you just want me to keep monitoring?"
Trust Matt to continue working in a circumstance like this. Either he was dedicated, or an idiot.
Mello looked over at him. He tilted his head to the side, supporting it with his knuckles to think about this latest inquiry. To him, it didn't matter either way; Matt had working eyes and a functioning mind, so he was as sure as Hell going to do something, even if it meant sitting on his ass all day monitoring. Which he did anyway. So, there were no worries.
"Yeah," he responded, ripping down the wrapper more to expose what remained of his chocolate. "I might leave later on...but I might not. I need to set some things up."
As to what that was, he wasn't going to reveal yet. It was a plan in progress, and he didn't want to talk about it until he was ready to go through with it.
"Right," he answered, still obviously putting off the prospect of work.
Matt glanced over to the other, looking somewhat puzzled for a second before he set aside his naked popsicle stick and pulled out a cigarette and his lighter. He lit it up and took a drag from it—if Mello told him to go smoke outside...well, Matt would not be very happy.
Of course, Mello didn't tell him to smoke outside. Maybe if it were any other circumstance he would have, but now he knew that the other was in no condition to traipse out smoking. He shouldn't even be doing it now. And speaking of which...
"You shouldn't be smoking," he said hollowly. "You're just asking to die. I worked too damn hard to keep you alive just for you to kill yourself, you know."
The other male probably did, but the constant stream of reminders only soothed Mello's mind. He knew it would never break the addiction.
Matt gave the other something of a spiting grin.
"I need it," he answered, knowing full well that Mello had worked to keep him alive, and yes, he appreciated that, but he really did need the smoke. "It keeps me calm." He reasoned with the other—and it was true.
"Then maybe I should buy you some nicotine patches or something," the blonde replied curtly.
"Please don't," the other muttered—those nicotine patches freaked him out a little bit. The idea of nicotine seeping through his skin wasn't exactly one that he welcomed. "I'll find chocolate patches for you if you do."
Mello laughed.
"A chocolate patch?" If such a thing existed, maybe he would have been a little intimidated. But it was impossible. "Very funny. Like I said: chocolate can't kill you like smoking can. How can you stay calm knowing you're slowly blackening your lungs?"
It was a drug, he knew, but he had to ask the question. Disillusionment couldn't keep you satiated for long, could it? Matt still had his sanity. He knew the risks, yet he didn't care. It was kind of the same letting Mello stay. Risky. Well, maybe not so much...but he had shot him. If that wasn't risky, he didn't know what was.
"Fine. Sugar-free chocolate," Matt stated levelly to revise threat. That was very much possible, and very dangerous indeed.
"I'm probably going to die before I get lung cancer," Matt told Mello, giving the blonde a smirk to dare him to challenge this. Given the circumstances, the recent events, and the whole concoction that Matt was involved in, this was very possible. Risky indeed. Of course, Matt didn't really seem to care about too much beyond what Mello told him to do, and video games.
"Don't say that," stated Mello, visibly unconcerned as he admired his gloved hand. He didn't want Matt to die, honestly. It wasn't an ideation you'd expect from someone who shot him, but he was credibly averse to the redhead dying before he did. This was because the elder truly did expect to die first, and didn't want to go on doing all this shit alone. That's what he had his gang for. That was what he had Wammy's for. He had never, despite his somewhat reclusive nature due to his 'I alone am the best' nature, done any of his investigating alone. He would probably even go to Near, if the need arose, though he would probably make dealings with Kira himself before he was truly dependent on the younger one.
Matt only smiled a little more, taking a drag off his cigarette and blowing cinnamon smoke off to the side. Really, his cigarette was making him so calm that he was hazy—and instead of feeling any more motivated to do anything, he felt like falling asleep where he sat.
"You don't seem to mind," he pointed out. It was pretty obvious to him that Mello didn't want him to die though—he'd gone through all that trouble to keep him alive...or maybe, he just didn't want Matt to die at his hands. Despite either option, Matt was just pushing Mello's buttons. Again.
The blonde narrowed his eyes and sat up. That was his 'I'm about to defend myself' pose. He shoved the rest of the chocolate into his mouth and swallowed thoroughly before tossing the wrapper aside.
"Hey," he pointed out, stretching one leg over the couch cushion. "I do. What makes you think I don't care?"
It was obvious Matt was pushing his buttons, but Mello liked things cleanly explained. He didn't want any misconception left ill-expounded. It was just him, and the way he was brought up. One of his similarities with the rest at Wammy's House. They all liked clarification and to know the meaning of things.
As long as Mello didn't go into an 'I'm about to shoot you' stance, Matt was fine.
"You just act like it," he answered, shrugging slightly, his expression turning momentarily displeased at the pain it shot across his chest.
"But I guess that's also because you do care and you really don't want to show it," Matt ventured—that was how he did it. Mello just added on being angry all the time. "Just like I care about L and everything you think I don't care about."
Somehow, he and Mello were in the same boat, but neither of them really empathized with the other. Maybe it was their stubborn natures working against them...
Mello sat back. "I show that I care," he said, now not looking at the other. He had developed a fascination with the crescent of laptops positioned on the floor. "I talk about L all the time, or at least...I used to. And you. I fixed you, didn't I?"
There was a pause, in which he took the liberty of grimacing at the lingering aroma of smoke. It still disgusted him. "And every time I leave, I always come back. I could leave for good, Matt. But I don't, you asshole, because I do care. So think about it before you talk shit about me..."
It wasn't really 'talking shit', but that was the ideation that implanted itself into his mind.
Admittedly, this was true. Matt had always taken Mello talking about L as ambitious and obsessive. Very rarely had the thought of Mello actually caring crossed his mind. And as for fixing him... Well, he supposed that spoke for itself.
"But I am somewhat useful to you," he pointed out, just because he couldn't really negate the other. It showed. He was being terribly half-hearted about his response, and his cigarette was lowered. His hand rested idly on his knee, the filter smoldering away.
Mello had just proved to Matt that he could care. It was something that Matt had never expected the blonde to do—expressing it was one thing, but going out of his way to prove it? Unheard of.
"Mello...you hate anyone thinking that you can actually…you know…be concerned and shit, right?"
He didn't know how to phrase his reply lightly, if he could even phrase it at all. This was a conversation unfamiliar to him, and somewhat uncomfortable. But he wanted to talk about it for some reason. Goddamn. He'd be doing some serious self-beating later if this became sodden with emotion.
"I can't hate that," Mello said resignedly. "I hate people knowing me. I hate it when people can figure me out."
Mello stood up and went back to the kitchen for no reason at all. He rummaged through the refrigerator again, getting more chocolate to smooth over his senses. Fuck if he ate it all before a week's time.
Matt figured that Mello could be excused if he ate all of the chocolate—he'd been through quite the turn of events, and now Matt was drilling him on something he clearly wasn't comfortable talking about. Why Mello was letting him do this, Matt wasn't really sure, but he was going with it. Honestly, he'd always wanted to sit and talk with Mello—it was something they hadn't done since their days since the Wammy's House. Even then, these talks had been rare.
"And still…you just explained yourself to me," Matt stated slowly, clearly not meaning his whole self—the redhead didn't believe that anyone could just sit down and explain their whole self. "But acting like you don't care…let's people realize some things. You don't like showing your emotions because you think it's a weakness, maybe. Or you don't want to be concerned because you don't want to get attached. Or...I don't know. Lots of things."
Matt didn't really like to think, or venture guesses, and thinking about Mello's personality was no exception. In fact, it was an enigma that Matt would really like to tackle, but didn't think he would or could any time soon.
"I dunno, Matt," hissed the blonde. "Maybe it was because I just shot you. Maybe I thought you deserved it. I don't want you to go around just thinking I'm some bomb that's just waiting to go off. I have reasons for why I do things, even when I don't know them myself. If you're going to be oppositional about it, I could just fucking leave."
Although, he didn't really plan on it.
He didn't plan on leaving any time soon, though he knew he'd eventually push himself out the door to resume tailing Near. His plan definitely involved the light-haired male, so he had to go face him again, or at least talk to him. Next time, though, he wouldn't get so worked up.
"Just saying," Matt replied in his usual, avoiding defensive maneuver. Matt tended to challenge things, but only to force his opponent to fill out the hole that he'd created. Reversely, he tended to go at things by putting himself in the opposition's place, find their weakness, fill it out, come back to his side and counter it. Usually, it worked. Sometimes, it didn't. But it was fun…like a game.
"You're not going to leave, though, are you?" This didn't really follow Matt's 'challenge' tactics. This question actually sounded genuine. The notion of Mello leaving came up so many times since they'd moved in, the redhead was finding himself believing that one day, Mello might just never come back.
Hell, Mello wasn't going to lie. Not now that he had spilled his guts to Matt.
"I might," he voiced softly. "I can't stay in one place. It makes me feel stationary. I can't beat Near this way."
It was all about Near, wasn't it? That was all it had ever been about. Since his childhood, he would do anything to get at Near, even step on his alleged friends and leave them. It was selfish, but Mello wasn't going to simply trod on his own dreams just to assuage another. He cared, of course, but...not that much.
Matt closed his eyes and breathed a harsh sigh—he didn't know why, but he was hoping that Mello would tell him 'no, you dumbass' or something to that effect. He took a deep drag from his cigarette and breathed the smoke out, opening his eyes halfway to watch the fumes curl away from him.
"Damn it, Mello," he muttered to the other. The elder had done this exact same thing back at Wammy's—he left Matt behind just to beat Near. And Matt wondered where this slow, growing distaste for the younger had come from... He snorted. "Always have to be better than Near." Matt muttered. "If you hadn't come to Wammy's, what do you think you'd be like, Mello? If you hadn't met damn Near."
Mello hissed inwardly. He would tell Matt his deepest feelings, like a dumbass only would, and then get withdrawn at the slightest mention of Near's role in his life. It was a touchy subject, to be sure, but maybe only because the blonde didn't know the answers to most questions surrounding it.
"I would probably have nothing to strive for," he said, telling the easiest answer. "It would be different, that's for fucking sure."
Different in what way had yet to be fathomed in his mind, however; then again, he really didn't want to know that answer. He didn't like to think of what it would be like if the grass were greener.
Matt sighed again, a cloud of smoke rising from between his lips and floating away to further pollute the air with cinnamon smoke.
"I don't think so," he murmured. As a gamer, alternate worlds, parallel universes, different choices...all those things were common thought to him. Matt often spent much of his time dreaming up different lives for himself. Granted, he did it a lot more when he was younger, but even now, after a bad day...
If anyone asked, it helped him have better dreams. "I don't think you wouldn't have anything to strive for, that is," Matt clarified, coming back to the world of then. There was no point in thinking about the past, even the past that he fabricated.
"I can't think the way you do, Matt," scowled Mello. "I don't know what life would be like without Near standing in my way. In fact, if I do beat him, I won't even know what to do then. It's been a constant struggle. I guess I...need Near, in a way."
He blinked, perhaps just realizing this. Okay, the thought had been plaguing him for an awfully long time, but he never let it intrude into his waking thoughts. And now, he didn't even give a shit what Matt thought about it all. He wasn't in a war with someone like Near. He was just a spectator. Leave it to Mello to think of him so critically and put him down so far. He thought he had it worse, and that ideation probably wouldn't change for the world.
Matt paused as the other admitted that he needed Near—Near, whom he hated so. Matt looked down for a moment, considering the other's words. He guessed that it made sense, it was something that he could fathom that he understood...but Matt didn't think he would ever truly understand Mello and Near's relationship. It seemed so simple to the naked eye, but...Mello explaining things was just showing Matt how complicated the whole situation really was.
"What did you do before the orphanage? You can't have known Near all your life." Matt pointed out, wondering if Mello even remembered what life was like before Near.
For the first time, there was silence. He wanted to return to the couch, but Matt was currently in that area, and he had no inclination to go sit near him, for some odd reason. Instead, he sat on the kitchen counter again, massaging his forehead with the back of his hand.
"That doesn't matter," was Mello's only reply, followed by a grunt as he lay back against the cold formica. He propped one foot up while the other dangled off the edge. The leather he wore creaked, begging to be changed. Maybe later he'd change clothes...now, however, he wasn't in the mood.
"Remind me to wash that later," Matt commented off-handedly to Mello about the counter, breaking the silence that followed after Mello's answer as well. He took a final drag of his cigarette before putting it out and tossing it into a nearby ashtray. Putting a hand against the wall, Matt got back up on his feet and wandered back to his semi-circle of laptops, sinking down onto the couch and leaning over his work. He still didn't really want to get back to it.
He inhaled deeply, letting the clean breath out slowly and leaning back against the couch. Rather, he went back to the conversation before. "It should. If Near makes a mis—"
He stopped.
"…Near…is working a lot like L. If he dies, what are you going to do? You can catch Kira, but what point would that prove? You're better than Kira, but that's not what your goal is."
"That's what I set out to do all along, Matt," said the male discordantly. "I wouldn't know what else to do. I'll just take up L's position. But chances are, if Kira kills Near, he'll kill me too. I had my doubts immediately after L's death. What kind of narcissistic fuck would I be to presume that I could catch Kira if Near and L together can't? There's a slim chance...but I do it anyway. Just to prove that I'm not worthless, that I can do something, even if it's a failed attempt."
He felt like he was at a shrink's, but it was worse, because this was Matt he was talking to. He wasn't unduly worried about it, but he felt weak for telling all of this.
But hell...if the leather-clad one stopped talking now, he would've opened up a bunch of shit that would have spurred Mello to leave for a long while to sort some things out and get them out of his head, or maybe just leave for good. It all depended on his mood.
And where would that leave Matt? Without Near to dislike, and without Mello to be his friend. Without an L to be his game master. Hell, if everyone died, Matt would be L, but he didn't really want to think about that. He didn't want it to happen, either.
Shaking the thoughts off, he looked over at Mello again, taking in all the things that Mello had told him. The blonde was disclosing so much, it was so... unlike him. But Matt wasn't complaining.
"Mello...just...don't...Try not to get yourself killed," Matt stated finally, obviously struggling with his words due to some deeper feeling. "There's a difference between risking your life and blatantly asking to get killed."
He said something muffled, maybe something he hadn't intended to say. That, however, was too soft to be heard, and it was soon out of mind. He felt like falling asleep again, but he knew he was going to leave after this whole conversation was over, so there was no point in that.
"This whole thing's going to get me killed," Mello replied apathetically. "It's not like I'm asking for it, asshole. What'll happen, happens. But I'm not going to let Near get away with using me and beating me to Kira. That, I won't stand for. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon." He turned his head away from the living room.
Matt really wanted to jump up and smack Mello in the face—he nearly did it, too, but sitting up sharply reminded him of the fresh bullet wound in his chest. He gritted his teeth and recoiled back into the corner of the couch, exhaling harshly.
"Mello—" he started, cutting himself with a frustrated sigh. "I don't want you to get killed."
He grated out, staring hard at the computer screen before him accusingly, like it was the source of the problem here.
Finally, the red-head rose from the couch, more to get up and do something than actually getting up because he had a destination. He made his way across the room again, leaning down and picking up the popsicle stick that he'd kind of discarded earlier.
"Well, piss in one hand and want in the other, and see which one fills up faster," Mello retorted. Not a very friendly response for someone who cared about his well being, but he was getting rather defensive about the fact that he had spilled his innermost thoughts to one of the people he wanted to hide them from the most. It was odd, how his moods fluctuated, and his priorities changed. It had been Near only hours ago, then it was Matt, and now he was thinking of himself above all. He hissed inwardly at his inability to sort things out, but kept still. He didn't like staying in one place for an overtly long time, not when he was thinking at a high speed, but now he was a little tired, even though he had slept a reasonable amount not long ago.
"No thanks," Matt responded to the snide comment without seeming too deterred. Granted, he'd just admitted something that Mello probably already knew to him... But with Matt, there was always a certain value to things that were said versus things that were just left hanging. Nevertheless, all he did was look sort of disdainful and throw the popsicle stick away.
Walking out of the kitchen again, he glanced to the floor, seeing it spotted with a trail of whatever blood had dripped when Mello had maneuvered him into the bedroom. Silence fell between them again, Matt finding himself without anything to say. He felt like he needed to say something to Mello, but words were failing him right then.
The blonde's thoughts stirred in his head roughly, making him wince. He was being harsh again, even if Matt didn't care. It put another load of guilt on Mello that he didn't need, especially since he had secretly vowed to be more civil to the gamer after this whole ordeal. It seemed he couldn't keep to his own word as he could to others'.
"Matt," he said, uncertainly. Screw any notion of apologizing again; he had done that too much lately to take it seriously anymore. But he couldn't think of anything else to follow that up, except his voice caught in his throat and the oh-so silent sounds of his own thoughts ticking by. He'd have to say something eventually, but nothing came. So, he merely waited to hear the other's inquiry or response before he spoke again.
The silence between them was getting really, really awkward. It was the kind of silence where you were going to say something because you were thinking about the person you were with, but then couldn't say anything just…because, and for no better reason.
"Yeah?" Matt answered a couple seconds too late. He hadn't really expected Mello to say anything, even if the blonde was being a bit of a jerk. Matt usually took it, and now was no different. He sat back against the back of the couch, looking at Mello expectantly while breathing difficultly through slightly parted lips.
"I don't want you to get killed, either."
He echoed the crimson haired male's words from before almost exactly as the other had said them, except slightly calmer. Nonchalant, even. It was uncanny how flat his tone had become in such a short while. He stirred, itching to get up, but not quite able to, like he was going to lie on the counter all day with no repercussions. He would, too, if it was not for the fact that he had work to do...maybe when the Kira case was long over, he'd adapt a Matt lifestyle, sitting in an apartment all day eating chocolate. It sounded ideal, but it wasn't Mello's life. It wasn't even close.
Matt was silent for a little while before he turned a short way and slid into the couch, landing with a satisfying 'whumph' and a slight wince. He'd never been careful of his injuries—as a kid, he'd never used Band-Aids, Neosporin, or avoided getting dirty when he had cuts. Hell, he still had a shirt wrapped around his chest.
"I'd like to think not," he answered, giving Mello a grin by way of thanks whether or not the blonde could see it.
"You wouldn't think so," said Mello, finally getting up after his endless internal battle as to whether or not he should. His sense and better nature won over his sloth, something he had only recently developed. That, he decided, was Matt's bad influence. He strode out of the kitchen, languidly running his tongue along a square of chocolate that had melted against the roof of his mouth.
"I need a cell phone," he announced. "I'm going to attempt a contact with the Kira task force that Near is investigating." A plan he had just hatched, with a little inspiration from the younger one, though he had little means of doing this without help. It killed him to get it from the SPK.
Matt's eyebrows raised up into his crimson hair, and he blinked slowly at the other.
"...well okay." He answered finally, figuring that whatever Mello was up to, it would be for the good and he didn't have to worry.
"Use mine," he told the blonde, gesturing with his head to the cell phone that sat discretely by the corner foot of the couch. He wasn't going to get up, obviously—one, he was too lazy, and two, he didn't really feel like it what with a hole in his chest. "What're you planning on getting out of them?"
"We want to find out who the new L is exactly," he said determinedly, stressing the last word a bit more than he intended, though it still had its affect. He picked up the phone, examining it before tucking it into one of his tight pockets. It showed from the leather, much like his gun did, but he didn't really care. It wasn't as though anyone was looking, and all though Mello took an interest in his appearance that outmatched most of L's successors, functionality took priority. That was a universal truth.
"We can't contact them directly, or L will just answer us. We have to try and tap the individual cell phones."
Matt considered this notion for a little bit—of course they did—wait, why?
"Didn't L think that someone on the task force was Kira? If he did, then...considering the circumstances, the fact that neither you or Near are L right now, and the police didn't go public with L's death, does it seem plausible to you that whoever he suspected is the second L?"
Matt ventured, fiddling with his hand held. Between his words, the 'ping ping, pow!' noises of his video game sounded. "I think I can tap the phones. They're still just an investigation team."
Mello's mouth twisted into a somewhat troubled frown.
"It has to be," he said. "There's only a small margin of doubt for that assumption, so we have to see it through. Besides, Near has been in direct contact with the second L for a long time. If he suspects it, then I have to agree. It's definitely plausible."
He hated Near, but he knew that the younger was very intelligent and knew what he was doing. Otherwise, he would have never excelled as L's successor. Hell...even some of his personality traits mimicked the original detective's. It made Mello wonder how much more of a threat he would become if he started sitting abnormally or wearing loose, pallid clothes.
"But yeah. It'd be better to tap the phones before Near does."
Matt nodded, thinking for a moment before sliding off the couch. Tapping a cell phone was actually rather easy, and there were many spy gadget companies that liked to sell off the equipment-- Matt had always grimaced when he thought about it, but it had taught him something-- if the average person could do it, he needed a damn more secured phone. He leaned over his laptop, tapping away at the keys.
"Damn. Kira's in one hell of a sweet position, then. It makes sense, then, that the investigation's been going in circles for six years," Matt mused, almost in awe. "Is Near in contact with any of the other task members?"
"Just one," he said. "Shuichi Aizawa. Apparently, they've been corresponding secretly without the second L's knowledge."
Mello sat on the couch beside Matt, staring over his shoulder. He wanted to be in control of this investigation, and he couldn't do that by just letting the other research and tap phones. He wanted to be a backseat driver of sorts.
"So that crosses him off as being Kira, unless he's working as both L and a member of the task force to lead us off, but that's unlikely." The male chewed thoughtfully, running through the latest developments in his mind. It seemed as though the shooting had been disregarded completely at this point.
Aside from the continuous, albeit slightly muted throbbing in his chest, Matt had almost forgotten that the incident had even occurred. Granted, he still needed to get bandages—just for the sake of convenience, but as things were, he was slightly busy.
"I don't think so, it seems a little shabby," Matt answered, not minding Mello leaning over his shoulder while he set to work on this phone tapping business. He understood Mello's want for control and didn't mind obliging. Not too much, anyways. "Shuichi Aizawa...I wonder if he's dumb enough to use his own phone to contact Near."
"Judging from the overall intelligence of that task force, probably," Mello commented. Granted, they were very organized, but they were inexperienced when it came to the practical line of law enforcement. That was lucky, or else the blonde could have been dead long ago. It seemed a lapse of intelligence on his part for not concealing his face better. He resolved to wear masks and hoods later on when he was going out.
Matt nodded, accomplishing the feat of tapping Aizawa's phone in a very short period of time. Nothing was going on, of course, but he was digging through Aizawa's records now.
"The one that's restricted is probably Near," he commented, scrolling through the call log. "If you want it for some reason, I can get it," Matt told Mello before tapping the connecting phones. It was easier than he'd anticipated—the phones all seemed to be tied somehow. Matt was guessing that they used an automatic sharing system or something like that. Yawning, Matt leaned back against the couch again with this task accomplished.
"Their security sucks. I could get into their database if you want," he offered, glancing over to Mello's scarred, but otherwise fair, face.
"I need Near's number," he said quickly, staring blankly at the screen in front of the other before looking to Matt. He would most likely need it before long, and if he was link anything to him, he needed some way of contact. A thought suddenly dawned on him. "I said I wasn't going to work with Near those years ago. And now, I'm doing just as good as working with him. It's ridiculous. If I ever suggest hooking up with the SPK for one reason or another, Matt, shoot the holy living hell out of me."
He sighed and stretched his legs out to the middle of the rug, admiring the sheen of the leather. "Search around their database for anything we might need. Identities. Information. Anything."
Matt nodded, leaning to the laptop again and keying in a few things as he traced the restricted call back to Near. He smiled inwardly at Mello's dilemma, shaking his head.
"The day I shoot you is the day that Kira turns himself in," Matt responded. Even on request, it was highly unlikely that he would ever shoot Mello.
"Considering the fact that you wiped most of them out while you had the notebook, I'm guessing that only the personnel are working with Near now. In that case, the cell phone probably belongs to one of them, I doubt Near would actually have a cell phone," Matt commented. "The number is (03) 7867-8293. It belongs to Anthony Carter," Matt informed, immediately turning to the hacked database and running a search on the name in addition to Aizawa's.
"Hmmmm," said Mello, taking Matt's cell phone from his pocket and plugging the number into a memo, and also into the address book. He could delete it later if he needed to, but any connection to the SPK was better than none. "What? You're telling me you don't want revenge for making you less healthy than you should be?"
He considered his words.
"Then again, you're killing yourself faster than I ever can." Referring to the other's smoking habit, and continuing to lurk over his shoulder, chewing half-heartedly on the end of his chocolate. So this was why he kept Matt around. He knew there was a reason why he didn't leave permanently, besides the fact that he actually liked the gamer. His quirks, not so much, but his being, yes.
"Revenge isn't something I'm game for," Matt answered. If he was, he would have gone after Kira a long time ago for killing L. He leaned over to a second laptop, typing away before reclining against the couch front. It wouldn't hurt to check the other database and have both the SPK and the Japanese task force at hand. Just in case. You never knew—hell, if all the information was there, Matt could do a cross check and see if there was a pattern in what was being ashared and what was being withheld. How that would help them, he didn't actually know, but it was worth a shot.
"Somehow, I think a bullet to the heart would be faster than nicotine to the lungs," Matt chided, his fingers rising to gingerly touch the covered wound. "Speaking of, you're going out to get bandages or something."
"Like ACE bandages or something?" he asked, only slightly familiar in the art of dressing wounds. After all, those he shot usually ended up dead. There was no need to save them. And about revenge...well, that was true; Matt wasn't like Mello at all, who was rabid in the game of revenge and it showed in his need to combat Near. Kira was only a figure in between, to be honest, even if he was the most deadly mass murderer in the world.
"Do you need it now? I don't mind going out to the store a second time, if you need it immediately. A shirt can only do so much, especially when it's your shirt."
"And gauze," Matt added, glancing down to the two whizzing computers by him. They'd been on a long time and had been working pretty hard—Matt supposed that he'd have to switch around and shuffle laptops in a little while. He looked down to the shirt binding his chest, tugging gently at it. it was caked and soaked through—he could tell that the material was stiffening with dried blood and was going to slip around some time soon.
"Yeah, I think that would probably be good. I don't think my shirt's gonna hold up much longer anyway."
Mello stood up with a vague nod and gathered what money was left on the counter from when he had left before and shoved it in his pocket, where there was little room to begin with. It already housed Matt's cell phone, after all. He went to the door and rested his hand on it before looking back briefly.
"D'you need anything else?" he asked, wanting to kill any birds with this one stone trip he had to avoid having to go out again. Each time was hazardous, even if he was pulling on his hooded jacket to conceal his half-scarred face.
Matt thought on this—he didn't really think that he needed anything. New video games, maybe, but matt highly doubted that Mello was going to continue on to a video game store, what with the risk he was taking to go out.
"I don't think so," he answered, assuring himself with a small nod. He'd gone grocery shopping recently, so...
Of course, he couldn't really picture Mello in a grocery store either.
"Have fun," the redhead taunted by way of saying goodbye, returning to his work, his hand sneaking towards his handheld.